


The Sorcerer and The Hunter - Merlin

by 20jld06



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Inspired by The Fox and the Hound (1981), M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:49:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29580519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/20jld06/pseuds/20jld06
Summary: The Fox and The Hound AU.When young sorcerer Merlin is sent off to ensure his safety, He bonds with another young boy on Camelot grounds. Only, fate, and the way of the rules, have decided that maybe their friendship isn’t meant to be.
Relationships: Gwaine/Percival (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Morgana (Merlin)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a suggestion made by @evilraker.aep on Instagram

The somewhat settling sound of swords embracing one another echoed in the distance, informing everyone that as the sun rose, the knights began to train. Each morning, once the cockerel finished singing its sweet song, the men on Camelot grounds rolled out of their beds, pulled on their training uniform, and fought until the break of day, when the sun was as it its highest point in the sky.

Merlin gawped from his position in the old, rickety car. Delight was pierced in his eyes. While he was upset to be leaving his mother, the young boy had an overwhelming sense of excitement digging at the pits of his chest.

The road underneath was unsteady, threatening to jerk the twelve year old out the window if he didn’t grip on tight enough. Nevertheless, he leaned over to get a better view of the fields stretching far ahead, a bewildering look set in the glints of his eye.

“Merlin, sweetheart, be careful.” His mother spoke, craning her neck swiftly to peer her son leaning forwards. “I can’t have you injured before we even reach Gaius’s.” 

With a sigh the wistful boy recoiled, “sorry ma.” 

A short while later, the foreign sounds of swords colliding faded into the distance; and was replaced with the voice of a mooing cow, and a small cottage coming into view. 

They pulled to a stop at the foot of the path leading up to Merlins new home. And that’s when it hit him... the dreaded feeling of homesickness already on the top of his tongue.

“I’ll miss you, Ma.”   
“I’ll miss you too, Merlin. Stay safe, you are in good hands with Gaius, I promise you.” 

The feeling in Merlins chest tightened. His own mother couldn’t even look him in the eye. She hadn’t wanted to drive him out of their village, their home. She hadn’t wanted to have to give up her only son whom she loved with her whole heart.

But it was for his safety. He knew this. 

“I love you, my son.” Her son noticed the thickness of her voice as he slipped out of the moving contraption, peering a strained smile on her face as she struggled to hold back her loss.

“I love you too, Ma.” 

And before his chest could possibly clench any tighter under the realisation, she was gone. Car clicking and gasping as it struggled to make its way back up the road.

The pre teen clutched the case he gripped in his hand, knuckles turning white as though his few belongings were going to tumble out if he didn’t squeeze hard enough.

It wasn’t fair. He never asked to be this way, he never asked to be removed from his own home, from his poor ma. But it was the only way he could be safe, they couldn’t have the villagers discovering his inevitable power. 

With a sigh of acceptance, he held his young head high, and carried himself along the path that lead to his new home. And with the stout tap of a fist, he was knocking on the crooked door. 

“Who is it?” An elderly voice emerged from the other side, before the door clicked open to reveal Merlins new teacher.

The mans eyes widened, mouth parting and shutting as though he was trying to think of the words to say. “Who are you, my boy?”

Merlin teared his eyes away from the man at the door, “oh! I have this letter!” He claimed nervously, before reaching into the depths of his pocket and retrieving a crumpled note with sprawled writing.

“I don’t have my glasses.” 

“I’m Merlin.” The boy declared, cocking his head to the side and looking up at the man who had a pondered look on his face.

“Huniths son?” He asked eventually.

“Yes!”

“Oh dear my boy, you’re not suppose to be here till Wednesday!” Gaius wondered out loud, eyes searching Merlins almost frantically.

“It is Wednesday.” 

“Well bless my soul.” He murmured, “it really is Wednesday, isn’t it?” Merlin noted that his new teachers emotions were always set on the surface of his face, and he could already tell that this man was always deep in thought. It was in the way his eyebrows creased and nose crinkled every so slightly, his eyes narrowed and lips stretched into a thin line.

“Well, come on in now, I’m not going to harm you.”

Once invited inside, Gaius pours the 12 year old a glass of water, while rambling on about what Merlin titled nonsense; his thoughts were already elsewhere anyhow. He peered silently out of the window next to the small table he sat beside, eyes searching for a new adventure.

He was only young after all, he didn’t want to hear about the remedie Gaius was working on, he wanted to see the young boys and girls who played in the fields, and the big men he’d spied brandishing their swords.

As Merlin stared into the hazy distance, a young boy of the same age travelled by in his fathers contraption, attempting to keep himself upright as the vehicle stumbled across the nature made road. 

His golden hair and fair skin only made him look opposite to his father whom sat beside him, thin grey hair cradling his head, and aged skin weighing him down. 

The lord of Camelot grounds was bringing his son home from his mother’s village, in which he’d been living until his mother fell ill, dying at a too young age despite her generally healthy life. 

Driving the car was the brother of Lord Uther, he was only a few years younger than the other, yet his hair was still a raven black and eyes not yet sunken into his skin. 

The father of the blonde hair child was a busy man, and had come to the conclusion his time was much too consumed to revolve around his son, and therefore his brother, Agravain, would be his guardian.

“I can only assume you shall love it on my grounds, Arthur.” Uther decided to tell his son, a smile bestowed upon his lips. “You’ll have much free space to run freely, and train, just like all the other young men.” 

Arthur cocked his head, eyes twinkling at the thought of living his dream childhood, “training for what Father?” 

“Well, to hunt the druids, of course.” Uther nodded, acting as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “you’ll find they are freaks of nature, son, living among the woods, and threatening us with their harmful power.” 

Fear found its way behind Arthur’s eyes, mouth parting before turning dry, “they won’t hurt me, will they Father?”

“Oh no, son.” The elder chuckled, his hand large compared to the child’s face as he ruffled the blonde locks on his head, “Agravain shall protect you while you are young, but I’m sure you’ll be the strongest of all the knights before you know it.” 

Agravain let out an audible huff from his position at the front of the car; he’d made it clear that he did not wish to be a nanny for his nephew, but knew that he could not refuse his brothers orders.

“You may as well get used to him, brother.” Uther said, “he’s for you to look after from now on.”

Upon the arrival of Arthur’s new home, his face had transitioned into a bundle overjoyed emotions. What 12 year old wouldn’t get excited over a vast new home, with grass stretching out for miles on end? 

Uther had parted ways with him at the entrance, telling him that they’d see each other before noon the next day, and with that, Agravain reluctantly led the Lords son to his new bedroom.

Arthur examined his new living quarters giddily, tracing his fingers over the crisp sheets on his single sized bed, noticing immediately how they were much unlike the ones in his previous home. 

For a split second his heart ached for those old sheets. Despite the fact they were hand me downs, and held an irreversible stain in one corner. They’d smelt like home. Like his mother. 

“Your face has fallen boy. Don’t be crying at silly hours of the night, I don’t wish to be disturbed in my sleep.” Agravain said bluntly, clearly not used to any interaction with boys as young as Arthur.

“I don’t cry!” Arthur pouted, arms folding over himself as he stuck out his chest, head held high, “I’m much too old to cry.” 

“If you say so.”

“I do.” Arthur said, young grin returning to his face, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkling like a leaf against a flame. “I wish to explore the fields tomorrow, so I’m going to get my rest now.” 

Agravain felt his eyebrows raise at his nephews use of words, after spending the most part of his growing years in the mother in which his village lived, he’d assumed his speech would adapt, but that wasn’t the case. He was still as strong tongued as ever. 

While his small body sunk into the foreign softness of the mattress, Arthur dreamed of his mother’s smile. And her frail hand cupping his face.


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin sat upon a stack of hay, legs dangling beneath him, barely   
touching the scuffed ground below. He had been asked by Gaius to watch him milk his cow, which Merlin did so reluctantly.

“Gaius, why do you even have a cow?” The young boy asked out of interest, staring at the udders in strange awe, “is there not a market place? Or maybe a milkman?” 

Gaius chuckled, shoulders jogging along with his movements, “well Merlin, making remedies for the Druid’s doesn’t exactly pay the wages, so I sell milk and eggs to ensure I can keep my property and don’t end up in the woods.” 

“But this is your house?”

Gaius smiled and shook his head, he’d forgotten how to speak around children, alongside how little they knew of the world, and society. 

“Why do the druids live in the woods, and not houses like us?” Merlin was filled with unanswered questions, ones that his mother hadn’t been able to reply to.

Gaius hummed, removing the filled bucket from underneath his cow, replacing it with an empty, fresh one. The waft of milk smelt warm and sweet, like ripened berries beneath the sun.

“My boy, as you know the druids are frowned upon by lords and people of villages. There was a war many years ago, in which the druids won using their sorcery.” He explained, “but of course, no matter their win, they were still outcasted, forced to live amongst the trees where they could only hope to live in peace.”

Merlin had slid down from his seated position on the haystack by this time, wondering over the cow, petting her gently as he listened.

“They’re still hunted mind you, people such as yourself. Lord Uther and his knights plan to bring each of them down one by one.”

The young magicians eyes widened, mouth forming into the shape of an oval, “will they try to kill me?” He asked, his voice scratchy as he whispered.

Gaius shook his head, reassuring the boy with kind eyes, “as long as you play it safe, no harm should come to you my boy, just don’t be poking your nose around where the knights train. And don’t go speaking to anyone who lives on Camelot grounds.” He warned, voice darkened and firmer than before, “do you understand?” 

“I understand.” 

Merlins hand travelled down the cows back, and ran over her tail, making her let out an angered moo of dissatisfaction. 

“Merlin, stop pestering Abigail,” Gaius chuckled, before turning to his cow who had a grumpy look of betrayal on her face, “Abigail? You're going to have to be patient with Merlin. He’s with us now.”

The cow let out a grunt in reply.

Merlin took a step back from the large animal, deciding maybe he wanted to entertain the smaller ones instead. He steadied himself on the floor, in front of the open chicken coup, where beady eyed animals sat calmly. 

“Do you like magic?” The 11 year old hissed at the chicken with a speckled face, grin at his lips, “do you want me to show you some?”

With a swift swirl of his hand, Merlin had begun his spell, only a simple one mind him. A small purple flame danced on his soft palms, creating a gust of wind as he did so. 

He blew it at the small animal with a chuckle, fully aware that it would not burn nor harm it. Nevertheless, the chicken let out a startled noise, picking itself up and charging away, alarmed look on its face. 

The cow mood loudly in retaliation as the bird crashed into the buckets of milk beside it. The chicken continued to cause mayhem.

“Oh, mercy!” Gaius said in surprise, “Abigail! Calm down, Merlin grab that silly chicken!” 

The young boy nodded, urging himself forwards towards the chicken, scooping it up in his hands as her wings still flapped chaotically. This caused him to stumble backwards. Against his will, his feet tripped up over the milk, sending the lot of them spilling into the straw on the ground.

After a short while of trying to calm Abigail the cow, Gaius finally let out a breath, shooting a disappointed look at Merlin, who looked back with guilt behind his young eyes.

“Merlin, my boy.” He said crossly, “you need to get your magic under control, look at the chaos you have caused!” He gestured to his messy surroundings. 

“I’m sorry, Gaius, I’m sure that I will easily get it under control with your help,” Merlin assured, flattery in the apology he made, “Ma said you would be amazing at it!” 

“Now. Don't try to butter me up.” Gaius sighed, but there was a hint of a smile at his lips, “Oh Tod. I can't stay angry with you. You little imp. You’re just a young boy, hardly your fault that you’ve had to flee here.” He shook his head in pity, “Now. Run along and do some exploring while I tidy this mess, remember not to come into the view of the knights.”

Merlins face lit up, thanking Gaius before scampering out of the barn with a grin at his lips.

“Stay out of mischief!” The old man called after him.

Merlin stopped a short distance from the barn and looked around wistfully. Seeing nobody, he sighed sadly. But not before hearing voices in the distance ahead. 

“Is this it, Gwaine?” A voice asked.  
“Sure is, Percival!” The other replied enthusiastically, “This is the place! I never forget a tree.”

Merlin peaked behind the branches, silent and sly like a fox as he watched the two boys out of interest. They couldn’t be any older than 17 he assumed. 

The first one that spoke, Percival, towered above the other, stiff muscles bulging out from beneath the cream brown tunic he wore. His head was skin, only stubbles hair poking out. Merlin had half a mind to think he was some sort of muscled God from the books he read.

Gwaine, however, was shorter, and while still possessing muscle, he was more lean if anything. Unlike his friend, he had long locks of brown hair, setting itself just underneath his jaw. 

“He won’t get away this time!” Percival declared, hoisting himself up the tree, his heavy weight shifting onto the low, thick branch. “Hold it Gwaine, I think I can hear something...” 

Gwaine perked his head up like a bird, eyes darting around their surrounding. “Oh that's him all right, Perce. That's him all right.” He nodded, “we’ll get him for stealing our rabbits.” 

Merlin felt a twig snap beneath the soles of his battered shoes. 

“Shh shh. Get ready, Gawine. Hey! I can hear him moving for sure, behind that bush. Listen!”

The young boy knew it was too late now. The two teens were searching for the boy who’d snatched the rabbit they’d hunted for dinner right in front of them, and they were on a personal quest to find him. 

Unfortunately, they thought he was hidden behind a tree, while it was, in fact Merlin.

He emerged sheepishly, hand running the back of his neck as he watched the older children’s faces fall. “It’s just some child.” Gwaine groaned, “I thought for sure we had him.”

Lancelot dropped down from his seat. “We’ll get him next time, swear on it.” He said encouragingly, placing a hand on the smaller boys shoulder.

“What are you doing out in the woods anyhow? I’ve never seen you here before?” Gwaine perked up, staring at the child. “Are you perhaps here to see Killgarah?” 

“Oh for gods sakes, Gwaine.” Percival dragged a hand down his face, “he could be from Camelot grounds for all we know!”

“Doubt it.” He said, piercing his lips, “much too scruffy.” 

Merlin felt a pout fall on his face, “I’m not scruffy,” he insisted, “and you’re not exactly well made up either!”

Percival stifled a laugh. “He’s young, but certainly has a tongue on him. So, what are you doing out here then?”

“I was just looking to play with someone.” The youngest huffed, “but no one my age seems to be here. Or anyone, in fact.” 

“You know,” Gwaine begun, scratching the small amount of teen stubble on his chin, “I hear Lord Uthers son came in today,” he nodded, “mind you, he won’t be allowed to go near anyone outside of Camelot grounds, but he appeared the same age as you.” 

Merlin felt his face light up, ears perking and hands opening wide. “Surely I can at least try and see him. Can I not?” 

“Beats me.” Gwaine replied with a shrug, “I’m too busy looking after this idiot.”

Percival’s eyebrows furrowed I’m offence, “Gwaine, my friend, I’m not the idiot here.” 

“Think what you wish.”

The two bantered back and forth as Merlin darted off, in hopes to maybe find a friend. In hopes that this new, unique place, would feel just a bit more like home.


	3. Chapter 3

The warmth of the morning sun settled on Arthur’s face, blue eyes twinkling under the pressure of the light. 

He was bored to say the least, he and Agravain had eaten an early breakfast, before marching out into the fields to spy on the training men, watching in utter awe at the way their swords clashed together. 

“I want to try!” He proclaimed, opportunity in the way he smiled, almost as if he knew in an instant that he’d be amazing at the skill.

Agravain felt his eyebrows arch in amusement, “you have got a lot of learning to do before you can begin to bare a sword. But one day soon you shall begin.” 

Frustrated and bored, the young blonde picked up a twig, throwing it a short distance before rushing over and picking it up again, only to repeat this action. 

Only a few months ago, his mother would be the one throwing the stick, watching him grin and chase after it like a puppy, picking it up, bringing it back, and redoing it all over again. 

He didn’t have anyone to throw it for him this time.

“Hey, where are you going?” Agravain asked sternly, watching the small boy trot away. 

“I would like to explore a little.” 

The older man sighed, slicking back his raven hair with his fingers, and in warning tone he said “Okay, Arthur, but the master isn’t going to appreciate you wandering off.”

“I won't get lost, I can assure you I’ll find my way back!” 

The soles of his shoes batted against the hard mud, feet carrying him in excitement. As soon as he left the grounds belonging to his father, a freeing breeze washed over him. He knew not to go past the river, he’d been warned that the druids wondered among the trees, like foxes ready to hunt.

After scouring the grounds, he finally found the perfect stick, around the length of his forearm. “A sword!” He yelled to himself, raising it above his head in victory, he used it to brandish at leaves and tree trunks, letting out disgruntled grunts of action.

“Watcha doing?” 

Arthur spun around on his heel, blonde hair sweeping over his eyes as he did so. Blue eyes widened in surprise, latching onto honey brown ones. Through the gaps of the trees above, the sun leaked through, making the strangers pale face glow gold.

“Whatcha doing?” He asked, arms swinging at his side, eyes bright with enthusiasm.

“Hunting things with my sword.” Arthur said bluntly as if it was an obvious thing to see.

The brunette stepped up onto a rock, making him at least two inches taller, reaching the height of the intriguing stranger in front of him. “Whatcha hunting?” 

Arthur hummed for a moment, his smallish feet taking a step forwards, stick for a sword levelling upwards, pointing straight towards the other. “You!” 

The lords son watched the boys eyes widened and let out a bright bubble of laughter, making his heart swell and a grin tug at his own lips. 

“I’m Merlin!” He said, stumbling off the rock and returning back to his normal size, appearing just above Arthur’s stub nose. 

“I’m Arthur, I live over there, on Camelot grounds!” His arm stretched out, pointing in the opposite direction to the river beside them. “I’m Lord Uthers son.” He said proudly. 

Merlins mouth parted, head leaning to one side in awe, “do you hunt druids?” 

“No. According to my fathers brother I am not old enough to hunt.” A pout made its way to Arthur’s face at the fact, “I’ve never even met a druid, so how will I know when to hunt one?” 

The shorter boys grin widened, and he stuck a thumb to his own chest, holding his head up high, “well you’ve met one now!” 

“What?” Arthur asked, baffled by the words the other had just spoken. “But I thought wizards were monsters with magic and pointy hats?” 

Merlin hummed in thought, bringing his hand up to his clump of hair, scratching it as he did so, “I’ve never met any other sorcerers, so I can’t quite say if you’re wrong or not.” 

Arthur pondered. He been warned not to delve deep into the woods, and he’d also been sternly told that he wasn’t to come into contact with the sorcerers either. But Merlin was his age, he appeared harmless... and Arthur really wanted a friend to play with.

“If you are magic, does that mean you can cheat at hide and seek?” Arthur blurted out absentmindedly. 

Merlin rested his hands on his hips, “only one way to find out! I’ll hide first while you seek!” 

“May I keep my sword?”   
“Don’t see why not.”  
“Perfect!”

As the sun shone above, the two newly acquainted friends played with one another, diving into bushes, climbing up trees, beating each other relentlessly with sharp twigs, and running circles hand in hand. 

“My, my. Look at that. A sorcerer and a hunter. . . playing with one another.” Kilgarrah noticed, bemused by the sight he saw in the distance. A pipe hung from his lips, puffing each time he inhaled a deep breath. All the years he’d spent lingering in the woods he’d called home he hadn’t seen a friendship quite like this.

He’d seen many things. Wizards, hunters, and wars. Families hiding in the depths of a cave, small children fluttering magic from the pits of their palms. He’d seen birds argue over caterpillars, and fox’s befriend hound’s. But he’d never seen a boy from Camelot, smile so brightly at a boy with magic. 

“Life's a happy game. They could clown around forever.” He chuckled softly to himself, his voice stale, “Neither one of them sees their natural boundaries. Life’s one happy game.”

Arthur’s ears perked like a dogs when he heard a voice calling from a distant. That’s when he’d noticed the sun was already steadying itself at the edge of the horizon, burning brilliant colours of orange and yellow.

“I apologise, Merlin. But I must be leaving now.” 

The sound of Uthers voice could be heard, a slight agitation could be easily detected within it. 

Merlin nodded, pulling his new friend into a hug. “We can play again? Yeah?”

“Yes, of course we can! I shall bring my sword.” And within minutes, he was scampering away toward the sound of his fathers calls. 

“If only the world wouldn’t get in the way,” Kilgarrah sighed, leaning his weight on the trunk of a sturdy tree, “If only the people would just let them play. They say they’re both being fools.” He shook his head knowingly, “they’re breaking all the rules. Society can't understand... the magic of their wonderland.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t sure whether to take the risk of writing Kilgarrah as Big Mamas character, but I’m glad I did. I obviously used the song from Big Mama and used it for Kilgarrahs personal monologue, hope it fit okay! - Jess


	4. Chapter 4

The rooster crowed in a new day, cocking its head towards the rising sun as a golden glow settled itself on the ground below. 

Merlin had slipped away from his chores that Gaius had presented him with, he’d finished most of them, and was aware that he was meant to do ALL of them, but his young mind obviously prioritised his need to go on adventures.

Stumbling and tripping up through the woods, he finally reached the small lake in which he’d met his new friend just the afternoon before. 

He’d been thinking of the Lords son for most of the night he’d lay in bed; thanking God for allowing him to meet someone that made him feel like he could call this place home. 

“Arthur?” He called out in his wispy voice, peering around tree trunks and over orange and green hedges. “Arthur are you here?”

After finally convincing himself that Arthur wasn’t hiding up a tree somewhere, Merlin decided to take the ultimate risk.

He scoured through the trees before stumbling upon an open field, belonging to Lord Uther himself. The distant sound of steel clashing against one another indicated to the young Druid that he must be somewhat close to Arthur’s home. 

Merlin applauded himself as a vast building came into view, marvelling at the way the structure stood taller and wider than any he’d seen. He tried to think about how many of Gaius’s stout house could fit inside.

There’s always been a dream of a home like this lingering in the back of his childish mind. It was a fantasy that him and his lovely Ma could only share a dream of. But of course... that dream was no more.

And like a Fox escaping its pray, Merlins mind didn’t let him linger on the thought of his old home. 

His dulled face lit up at the sight of Arthur, who was sat crossed legged in the shaded distance, toy horse in hand, and wooden branch by his bruised knees. Beside the occupied boy was Agravaine, a pipe hanging from his lips, and dancing smoke escaping the end. 

The trespassers eyes widened, knowing full well that he couldn’t get caught by the Lords brother. In his luck, Arthur looked up from the wooden horse gripped in his hand and caught Merlins eyes before the older man could so much as spot him.

Arthur stumbled upon from his position on the hard mud ground. “I wish to go exploring!” 

Agravaine sighed hollowly, thoughts left behind as he turned his gaze to his nephew stood enthusiastically in front of him. 

He knew saying no probably wouldn’t have any effect, and Arthur would probably sneak of anyhow. The man never usually ‘felt bad’ for people, but he knew that Arthur not having anyone his age around was probably a boring struggle.

“Fine.” He murmured, dragging the pipe from his lips. “Don’t go past the lake, and if you see any druids you must turn around and return at once. Go it?”

“Got it.” Arthur nodded, making the self decision that his new raven haired friend Merlin didn’t count. Before his uncle had the chance to say anything further, Arthur had replaced his horse with his stick sword and took off, sprinting in the direction of the hedge where the young magician stood eagerly waiting. 

“Arthur!” He greeted through a toothy grin. 

As the breeze danced around them, the two took off into the woodlands, chasing one another with sticks as swords and stones as protection. 

Days like these continued, both the boys slipping away from their respective homes to “explore.” Of course they couldn’t tell their peers of one another, they couldn’t risk the bounded friendship they’d formed.

Kilgarrah had decided to label them as two sides of the same coin. 

“You can’t catch me!” Arthur challenged, flexing his small muscles and sprinting off through the trees, laughing care free as his golden locks gripped his head among the struggles of the wind. 

Merlin stuck out his chest, chin held high. “Bet I can!” 

Young minds don’t consider the dangers of the woods, the accidents that may happens, the problems that could be caused. And with Arthur’s train of thought solely focused on their game of chase, he didn’t take notice of the ledge ahead, leading straight into cold, rough waters. A part of the lake that showed no mercy.

“Arthur, look out!”

Blue eyes widened, a flash of fear striking their irises. And without the time to stop, the Lords son had crashed into unforgiving waters, being tugged away by harsh currents that refused to be fought.

Young Merlin felt worry strike in his chest, suddenly not feeling like an 11 year old who had been playing a game of chase only moments ago. His feet scrambled towards the waters, instinct taking over. 

His slender fingers hovered above the blue tides, and with a strained push, magic was emerging from the tips, cradling the river until it had urged itself to a steadying pace. 

Frantically, Merlins eyes darted back and forth, eyebrows creased and mouth turned down as he searched for his friend.

He didn’t realise he’d been holding his breath until Arthur emerged from the now completely still water.  
With great strength and burning lungs, he breathlessly doggy paddled to the surface, towards Merlin. Shuddering as he pulled himself to land. 

“Arthur?” Merlin pulled the soaked through boy into a tight hug. “I told you to look out.” He huffed, “idiot.”

“I’m not an idiot.” Arthur pulled back, holding up his head and stomping his foot childishly. It took a mere moment for him to realise the previously gushing waters were now still as a stone. 

His lips parted. “You saved me.” He tried to think back to what his father had told him. 

‘you’ll find they are freaks of nature, son, living among these woods, and threatening us with their harmful power.’

Arthur pondered. Merlins power didn’t seem threatening. And he certainly didn’t seem harmful.  
Arthur decided Merlin wasn’t like other druids. 

“Thank you.” He finally said, a smile pulling at his lips. “But i’m still not an idiot.” 

Merlin chuckled, “only sometimes.” 

The breeze was a ballerina pivoting around the two, only causing the blonde boy to shiver in his wet tunic that stuck to his back, hair dripping onto the cloth.  
Merlins face lit up, “Arthur, can I use my magic on you?” 

“What?” Arthurs voice strained, as he took a hesitant step back. “Of course not! You might hurt me!” 

Merlin frowned. “I don’t know how to hurt people with magic. I just wanted to try and make you dry.” A puzzled look was drawn on his features, clear that he hadn’t any idea why Arthur may think he might be harmed by magic. 

Arthur gulped, eyes darting around as though he was checking to make sure no one was spying on the two. He knew he wasn’t meant to be here, and felt guilty by doing so. 

Selfishness. That’s what his father would probably call it. The alien emotion lingers in his mind, pulsing in the base of his throat like his heartbeat and pressing into his chest.

His mother wouldn’t call this selfishness. Not if she was here. She’d call it living for yourself. 

“Yes.” He decided. “You can use your magic on me.” 

Merlins dulled eyes lit up, and Arthur swore he could see a golden rim take ownership of his friends irises. The colour of a silky fox’s fur. 

The Druid adored his ability to use magic, usually he just used it to help Gaius with a chore every now and again; other times he’d use it for his own benefit. But he’d never really used it like this. 

Back when he lived with his lovely Ma, he hadn’t been allowed to share his gift among his friends. He’d been under strict instructions not to do so, in fear that he’d be dragged away by unforgiving men who held a fearful hatred of the unknown. 

Winter would sweep over the poverty cursed village in the flick of a light switch, rendering everyone a shivering mess. But Merlin and his Ma would lie next to one another, thin sheets draped over them as the magician projected a warmth along the skin of his body, magic dancing up his arms. Ma made sure Merlin kept it a secret.

But this was different. This was freeing. 

He held out his palms, eyes flickering as Arthur felt something foreign cushion his frame, making his spine tingle in a somewhat delightful way. And before he knew it, he was dry as a bone. 

“Wow.” 

“I know right, wait until you can see what else I can do!” Merlin semi bragged, grin at his lips. 

In all honesty, he was afraid his friend wouldn’t accept his magic. Wouldn’t like it. He felt a pressure release from his chest as Arthur’s face visibly beamed with enthusiasm. 

“Arthur.” Merlin decided, “you’re my very best friend.”

“And you’re mine too, Merlin.” 

“And we’ll always be friends forever, won’t we?” 

“Forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been trying to stick to the Fox and The hound script as much as possible while also adding my own scenes :) from this point there will be a few chapters I have completely come up with from scratch, uninspired by the movie itself, but it will still intertwine with the original story so don’t worry


	5. Chapter 5

As days turned into weeks and weeks bled into months and months created years, the two boys carried on with their traditional outings. Every three days their secret of meeting by the lake continued.

The trees had grown and so had they. Fifteen years old and Merlin was sharp as glass, cheekbones pronounced, and legs sturdy as they grew. Despite this, he was still clumsy as ever. His hair had stayed the same to Arthur’s delight, black ringlets still dancing beside his admittedly large ears with every step he took. While tall, Merlin had stayed slim; not spindly, but still small. 

He was light as ever, silent on his feet and fast while he ran through the trees, Arthur only on his heels.

The young blonde, however, was broad like an ox, or a hunting dog with a sturdy build. His shoulders stood wide and his posture was proud, toned legs going unnoticed. But the bright blonde buzzed hair he once had was now a dirty blonde, hanging past his ears. It certainly wasn’t a fair fight when he and Merlin rolled in the leaves, wrestling till they were bruised but a smile still on their face.

Smiles sometimes lingered. 

Fond tugs at lips, teeth not at show, or even smirks nowadays, a flash of... something, glinting in their eyes. They grew casual, staring at one another as the light peered down at them through the trees, enhancing their bright iris’s and gently greeting their skin with a glow.

While they were aware of their eyes hooking onto one another’s, and flickering back and forth between lips, the gestures went unspoken.  
They know not to say anything. They have become fluent in the language of the air between them.   
-  
-  
“Brother, has Arthur begun courting? His training is endured over the course of three days with a day of break in between.” Uther hummed, question in his tone, “does he not meet with young women?” 

Agravain sighed, running a hand down his face as his eyebrows raised. “Uther, brother, he’s your son, why don’t you ask him?” He suggested through his teeth, “I hardly see him on the days in which he takes a break. He doesn’t tell me where he wonders off to, and I don’t ask.”

Uther set down his quill, ink leaking from the tips as it decorated the table with liquid blue patterns. He raised an eyebrow towards his younger sibling, who only peered back with an unbothered expression. 

“Boys need their privacy.” Agravain continued with a shrug, “you never appreciated it when father told you to stop messing about with the maids, did you?” 

The lords face landed with a bemused look, a smile tugging at his lips at the fond memory of his youth. “I wouldn’t mind if Arthur had taken a shine to the maids, at least it’s someone. Unless he already does, perhaps he uses his spare day to... meet with someone in particular?”

Agravain thought about the suggestion silently for a moment, before nodding his head. “I guess it’s possible that he’s courting in secret. Though there’s no need to confront him about such things, he’s a young man, I’m sure he’ll introduce us to her if he ever feels the need.” 

Uther had his quill in hand again, scratching away at the paperwork he had to fill, attempting not to smudge the wet ink it produced on the page. 

“God forbid he fall in love with the first woman he meets.” Uther sighed, “I already made a mistake as such. And with what results did that bring?” 

There wasn’t an answer said out loud. It was unnecessary. Rhetorical questions don’t need a reply.

Uther had been at his peak, 23 years old, a strapping man that had Landowners daughters and any maid from any household hanging off each arm. But of course the young maid that silently worked the kitchens had been the one to catch his eye; and take ownership of his fresh heart. Igraine.

Of course she blushed in his presence, but didn’t pine after him, or bow at his feet. The two felt comfortable in each other’s presence, teeth showing as they smiled, informality beaming as they sat next to one another in the woods, eating bread rolls and grapes. 

Igraine fell pregnant, and Uther felt himself brim with joy, instantly proposing, clasping her hands in his and asking her to be his wife.   
Of course she’d said yes, there love was a feeling neither had ever experienced for another person before. 

But not all happiness lasts forever. 

Igraine had woken one hazy morning, eyes fluttering open and closed in a desperate attempt to subside the pain coursing through her womb. Her husband had woken beside her, eyes widened with fear at the sight of a pale face beside him, groans of pain escaping her dry lips.

This went on for three days.

Three days of unbearable pain to the point where the only option was to cry herself to sleep. And Uther could not stand to take it any longer, so he fled. He fled into the woods and past the waters where he knew he shouldn’t go, with a plan he knew he shouldn’t follow. 

He charged into the closest druids camp, money in his hand as he hung his head in his own shame, asking for the druids physician to please save his wife. Much to his surprise, they complied. 

Uther would never let anyone know that he’d snuck a sorcerer into his own home, onto Camelot Grounds. He’d never let anyone know that he helped deliver a baby boy with golden locks and big eyes. He’d never let anyone know that magic was used to save his wife and child. 

With each day that passed after, Uther only grew more distant to his wife. While he loved his son, he struggled to bear the idea that he was born with the help from magic. 

“Uther, darling, the magic... it helped us did it not?” Igraine had said out loud, “perhaps the druids aren’t the monsters we’ve portrayed them as?”

“Enough, Igraine,” Uther had muttered, staring out the window that revealed a vast field under the night sky, “I don’t want to ever mention magic again. We have gone against everything we have been taught. Every law set into place.”

“But Uther”- 

Uther hadn’t realised his fists were clenched into balls, nails digging at the palms of his skin as he shouted, “ENOUGH!”

It had woken their baby. Arthur. Cries emerging from the wooden cot he lay in, hands like starfish, opening and closing as he begged for a loving attention. 

“Are you going to make sure your child is okay, Uther?” Igraine asked, and although her voice was shaky, there was a hint of hopefulness etched into it, “or am I his only parent these days?”

“He was born of magic.” Uther had muttered coldly, “he is my son, yet I cannot bear the sight of him.” 

He immediately regretted every word when he woke up the next day. To an empty bed. And an empty cot.


End file.
